__________________I wrote a little song for you with a melody I'd borrowed put to words that didn't rhyme to repeat what you already knew, as the stones thrown at your window tapped in syncopation.

You kept a distance out of fear you'd break, but what good's a single windchime hanging quiet all alone? The music our collisions would make is the sound that turns "the road that leads us back home" into "home."flickr

__________________I wrote a little song for you with a melody I'd borrowed put to words that didn't rhyme to repeat what you already knew, as the stones thrown at your window tapped in syncopation.

You kept a distance out of fear you'd break, but what good's a single windchime hanging quiet all alone? The music our collisions would make is the sound that turns "the road that leads us back home" into "home."flickr